


Traitor's Games

by Gelsey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, Drabble Sequence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelsey/pseuds/Gelsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Voldemort won the war many years ago, and this year's Summer Games features a traitor from their midst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas in July

**Author's Note:**

> This was a drabble series written a long time ago. I believe it was before the Hunger Games came out, though I could be wrong. It's alternate universe, Voldemort won. Each drabble was written for a rarepair challenge and I chose to connect all of mine. I hope you enjoy.

The green was verdant under the sun, the walls of the hedge maze gleaming with potion-induced health. The leaves fluttered slightly, though there was no breeze—fluttered like grasping fingers and gnashing teeth ready to rend and tear the latest sacrifice given to the Dark place.

Voldemort surveyed the sight of the large greenery-covered pitch with satisfaction, a smile stretching his lipless mouth. His Dark queen sat beside him with the eager cheerfulness of a child on Christmas Day, even if this wasn’t the first time she found herself here.

“Calmly now, Bellatrix,” he said, tracing a cool hand across her flushed cheek. “The game will start soon.”

Her eyes sparkled with adoration and glinted with madness as she gazed up at him. “Oh, my Lord, this is the best holiday ever,” she said effusively, sincerity radiating off of her. She truly was the best companion a Dark Lord could wish to have at his side.

He smirked as her face lit up further when the day’s ‘competitors’ were marched out to the maze, looking like they had lost already—which they had, of course. They had all lost, but today was an especial treat. There weren’t many traitors these days, but watching them be punished was always a delight, especially for his queen.

“Look, my dear, there is your treat,” he said, watching as she leaned forward over the edge of their box seats in order to get a closer look. Every line of her body was taut with anticipation, and he rested one waxy-skinned hand low on her back. 

“To think, we had her over to dinner just the other week,” Bellatrix gushed in a wispy voice. “I thought she was quite loyal.” The fact that it had turned out to not be so didn’t seem to phase her—if anything, it pleased her further.

“I know. We’ll have to have everything cleaned, now.” His voice was sibilant and sardonic, but it fell on deaf ears as Bellatrix shouted down insults upon the newest contestants. He smiled as he listened to the vitriol.


	2. Morituri Te Salutamus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort won the war many years ago, and this year's Summer Games features a traitor from their midst.

Pansy’s chin stayed high as they stumbled into the harsh sunlight. Jeers and curses of derision sounded along with smatterings of applause. A few people even threw down trash upon them. Seamus was the only witness of her fear, however, and only through their tightly held hands.

“Pretend we’re on holiday,” he whispered softly, for her ears only. “We’ve entered a competition at me family’s picnic. Nothing more.”

His humour bolstered her briefly but the comfort sputtered and died under the hisses of traitor and the feeling of dirt under her knees as she was forced to kneel alongside her lover. The hedge maze loomed nearby, radiating Darkness that chilled even the summer heat on her ravenwing hair.

“Say it!” The demand was harsh, but the once-secret lovers pressed their lips together tightly, refusing to comply. Even when the heavy booted feet of their guard struck her back and ribs, Pansy kept her silence—kept her silence like she had been doing for too many years now, for a different cause.

She refused to bow her head and instead glared up at the reptilian wizard who sat upon a bone-white throne. She’d stood beside that throne in the past, but even the memory of it disgusted her. Her knuckles were white with the force of her grip on Seamus’ hand.

“Never,” she declared and spat at MacNair’s feet, despite the narrow, red-eyed gaze of the demon king and the wild ravings of his mad queen. A small cry escaped her as a rough hand grabbed her hair and yanked her upright, and she in turn had to pull Seamus up or be tugged awkwardly on both ends, and then they were propelled toward unceremoniously toward the mouth of the maze.

She would not salute him. No more praise would fall from her lips for him or his cause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from the saying of the gladiators, which is “Ave, Caesar, morituri te salutamus,” which means “Hail, Caesar, we who are about to die salute you,” that they said before going into the Coliseum. It seemed megalomaniac enough for Voldemort.


	3. Con Te Partiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort won the war many years ago, and this year's Summer Games features a traitor from their midst.

Draco watched with faux-stoicism as his childhood sweetheart and friend was swallowed by the maze with her lover after refusing to salute Voldemort. His grey eyes were flat and his face impassive.

Inside of him, something finished withering and died, leaving a dark, empty void. He was not even certain of what he had just lost, only that it was no longer there.

Sensing something amiss, his young, arranged-marriage wife, Astoria, put her small hand in his. Her gaze filled with loving understanding; he looked away, unable to take the pity or the love.

Instead he watched his son, Scorpius, as the he played on a clean blanket in the floor of their box seats. The boy happily chased Chocolate Frogs within the safely bespelled confines as his Lord’s game began to the cheering of hundreds. Draco’s stomach—or was it his heart?—constricted painfully, and he felt sick.

Slowly Draco squeezed Astoria’s hand back, tightly enough to hurt like he couldn’t hurt anymore. Her smile never shifted or changed, and neither did his. Two beautiful people with their happy faces firmly put on, lest the world see what the truth—how everything had shattered around them, inside them, until nothing remained of the people they should have been.

The opening of the hedge twitched and slowly grew closed, shivering as the two sides of its twigs met, as if it were savouring the morsels it had just taken into its maw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from the song Con Te Partiro (Time to Say Goodbye) by Andrea Bocelli.


	4. Bitter Chocolate Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort won the war many years ago, and this year's Summer Games features a traitor from their midst.

The minotaur roared and the crowd cheered above her. And people said banshees sounded death calls—they’d obviously never been to Voldemort’s summer games, where the cheering of hundreds preceded every death.

“I couldn’t do anything.” He paused outside her cage, voice soft. She longed to touch him, but the pair navigating the maze nearby redoubled her caution. She was already condemned, but not to death. Not yet.

“I know zis, Blaise.” Cheekbones thrust against skin, Veela heritage giving her beauty though she was emaciated. Fleur’s eyes were ancient, sad, and all too human. “I am still sad. For zem, and us.”

Her eyes closed in pain as someone—Pansy? Seamus?—screamed. The briefest touch on her cheek and Blaise, with his sharp cheekbones hidden behind dark skin, was gone, continuing his rounds to the other cages tucked down here.

She sagged against the bars, full of longing and despair. There was nothing but bitter loss here.

She didn’t see him reach into his pocket and finger something, or hear him murmur, “Anything… yet.”


	5. Clasped for Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort won the war many years ago, and this year's Summer Games features a traitor from their midst.

Pansy and Seamus barrelled through the maze, driven by fear and desperation. Part of them knew there was no winning, but irrational hope still stirred in their breasts. But when two spectres shimmered into existence directly in front of them, beckoning the competitors, both were shocked. 

_This way_ , one murmured, coolness on a humid gust of air.

“Theo!” The maze muffled Pansy’s exclamation and Seamus’ shriek.

_We know the way_ , his companion added, ghostly tatters of her sari tangling around the white, entwined fingers. 

Pansy paused briefly—Theo and Padma were once her closest friends. Until things had gone so wrong. But a lifetime of trust couldn’t erase one supposed betrayal, and Pansy still trusted them. The ghosts flitted forward like a magical compass, away from danger, toward the faintest hope of an exit. Seamus and Pansy followed, still holding onto one another.

Theo and Padma didn’t pause upon passing the jumbled embrace of bones and rotted fabric. The faded material was the same as the translucent pattern that Padma now wore. Pansy stifled a sob when she saw the eternally clasped hands, rings clicking against bones in counterpoint to the roar of the approaching monster.


	6. Sheer Lunacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort won the war many years ago, and this year's Summer Games features a traitor from their midst.

“We can’t just let him kill them! Too many have died already!” Harry hissed his protest in a well-practiced manner that was both quiet while still managing to convey his outrage.

“We’ve had to let him kill far more than one bitch Slytherin and one of our old housemates.” There was no vehemence in Hermione’s tone. In fact, it was two parts exhaustion and one part resignation. It was just so hard to care anymore. With her gaunt face and chopped short, ragged hair, she looked as battered as she sounded.

Harry’s mouth opened to argue, but Luna slipped sylph-like between the two of them where they were hidden in the copse of trees not far from Voldemort’s death maze, where the crowd was just now gathering in anticipation of some fun. “Shh,” she said quietly, placing a thin finger on Harry’s lips. 

Her grey eyes turned on Hermione. If the bookworm expected validation, it wouldn’t be coming from Luna, however. “We need her,” Luna said, her voice barely a wisp of smoke in the damp air, not much changed from their Hogwarts years. “Pansy knows everything we can use to finally end this war.”

Luna’s intense optimism and hope seemed to burn Hermione, making her look away, but it simultaneously seemed to feed the fire that still somehow burned within Harry. His green eyes were unnaturally bright behind his glasses. Luna turned to him, her finger never having moved, and she leaned forward to press her lips gently against his around her pale digit. 

His hand reached up and took hers, twining their fingers together. “We have plans to make, and very quickly,” Harry said quietly. “We don’t know how long they might last in the maze, but we need to get them out.”

“This is crazy. We can’t just steal condemned prisoners right from under his nose and that of his queen.” Hermione’s protests seemed more obligatory than anything. Her voice was quieter and more fierce as she went on. “You’re risking _everything_ we have left. Every _one_.” 

Neither green nor grey relented, though, and Hermione bowed her head slightly. “Fine. _Fine._ Let’s just end this one way or another.” She turned and slipped away, far enough back that she could Apparate to gather their forces for this insanity.


	7. Weasley Through and Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort won the war many years ago, and this year's Summer Games features a traitor from their midst.

He waited for the right moment. It was always about the precisely right moment, and when it came to precision, you could count on Percy Weasley to come through. Last minute or not, this would happen.

The flames crept forward without sound and with very little heat. It was barely noticeable at first, in fact; Percy could only find the signs of it because he knew where it was supposed to be. He could see a faint flicker from where his box seat was, but today’s inane companion, the flighty Cynthia Wickham, saw nothing, her entire attention focused on the drama playing itself almost predictably out in the maze below.

Safely behind her, Percy let his lip curl in disgust. Perfect hair and perfect body, but she repelled him. What he wouldn’t give to have that hair replaced with a ragged, dirty cut, the body with one that carried too much worry and too many scars.

If today went to plan, he’d be seeing Hermione again, one way or another.

The roar of the minotaur as it started closing in on its prey was met with a discordant descant of shrieks as the witches and wizards in the stands suddenly started realizing that their seats, the arena, was on fire, and it wasn’t a fire that could be put out with a wand.

_Good job, Blaise,_ he thought as he saw how effectively the exits had been cut off. The variant of Greek Fire that Percy had painstakingly invented was working better than he’d predicted.

Voldemort’s anger pulsed through the mark on Percy’s arm, and he saw others clutch at theirs. Cynthia whirled as she _finally_ realized what was going on, only to run into his chest. “We have to get out of here!” she yelled at him.

Percy only smiled, a chilling expression, especially as the scar that bisected the left side of his face twisted slightly. “After you,” he said, stepping away from the entrance, leaving her to run into the flames already creeping inward.

There were already freedom fighters on the lawn in front of the hedge, casting hexes and curses with almost as little concern as the Death Eaters. He looked out, spotting the contenders in the maze approaching, miraculously, the exit. The minotaur wasn’t far behind, though. There wasn’t much time.

The redhead withdrew a device from his pocket. The oval fit into his hand snugly, and a finger slipped through the pin. He walked to the front of the box, looking out at the chaos and then up to the Dark Lord’s prime seats. Amazingly, Voldemort’s head swung around and red eyes met his, almost succeeding in pinning him in place. Almost.

“Muggle this,” Percy said, knowing it would be inaudible at this distance but also knowing the Dark Lord would understand what he’d said. He tugged and the pin fell away from the grenade, and he launched it directly into the box. He paused just long enough to see it land, see the Dark Lord realize from the top of his mind what it was, before he swung a leg over the side of his box and jumped down onto the healthy green grass to join Hermione in the fight.


	8. Monstrous Mayhem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort won the war many years ago, and this year's Summer Games features a traitor from their midst.

The minotaur roared his rage at the puny humans that dared invade his sanctuary. Bushes crashed in a leafy massacre in his wake, the maze twitching in protest at the abuse from the hooves of the one that usually tended it kindly.

The prey’s breathing was hard and their footsteps were quiet compared to the pounding of hooves, more frantic. Pansy’s sides ached and Seamus was regretting not exercising more in what felt, now, like an all-too-short life. But their ghost guides led them onward, despite the maze trying to hamper them at every turn, trying to help out the monster hunting them.

Outside, there was mayhem, real flames and magical flames eating everything in sight. A booming sound shattered the world somewhere off to one side, and everyone jolted and looked for the source. There was even a pause in the pounding refrain of the minotaur’s steps.

“Quickly… quickly!” There was light at the end of the tunnel, and a voice shouting at the end of it. Pansy barely recognized Hermione Granger, the bossy tone being the only key she had. The Gryffindor held a wand in one hand and some metal—Muggle?—contraption in the other, and she beckoned them to hurry.

Lungs burning, Pansy ran faster, practically dragging Seamus behind her. She imagined she could feel the breath of the monster behind her. She burst out from the maze, sucking in the sunshine that hadn’t leaked into the maze, but was brought up short with the suddenness of a sharp drop with a noose around the neck.

Pansy sprawled on the ground, her fierce grip on Seamus finally broken. She looked back in horror to see the leafy fingers of the hedge curled around her lover’s leg, pulling him back toward the maze. She could see the minotaur barrelling up that final stretch, huffing and roaring, death in his eyes.

“Come _on_ , Parkinson!” Granger shouted at her, and Pansy’s head swivelled so she could see her rescuers ranged in an aggressive form nearby, waiting for her. Her eyes fell on Percy Weasley, with his dully copper hair—she’d had him over for dinner last week. _Traitor_ , her mind automatically said. 

He smiled faintly at her even as he pulled the trigger of the gun he held, firing toward someone in the stands. _Traitor, like me._ She knew in that instant that if she joined them, the catastrophe of their world might be ended. That between her and Percy, they might be able to supply enough information to bring down the Dark Lord forever. She could see that knowledge in the faces of these people who had come to rescue them—her.

Because they weren’t calling Seamus’ name. They were yelling at her, for her. She stumbled to her feet, looking to them, then looking back at Seamus. 

Forward to grief, back to love. Forward to freedom, back to eternal confinement.

Forward to uncertain life, back to certain death. 

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounded in her ears, and everything whirled in her head and her heart.

And she decided, and took the steps to meet her destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd wanted to write a Lady or the Tiger type ending on a story for quite a while, and I took this story to seize that opportunity. Do forgive me that, but I hope you like it. I would love to hear what you think, and what ending you think Pansy chose.


End file.
